Covenant
by kayel29
Summary: Jason has to decide what he wants, and what he is willing to give up to get it. Part 12 of Burn Verse


Notes: Thank you to all the lovely folks who have read/liked/rebloged and commented! *hugs you all* and thanks to my long suffering beta stopwatch_plz, and all the amazing fan-artists who inspired me :)

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Gotham sucked.

Jason kept meaning to move, but the motivation had eluded him. Right now he was going nowhere as his leg was busted up so much he could barely walk three steps without falling on his ass.

Before he had managed to get himself incapacitated, he'd been keeping an eye on Dick - Tim Drake was still living with him, and Dick and Bruce seemed to be having a mutual sulk. Despite this, Jason was painfully aware that, as he watched Nightwing, Batman was watching him – but he ignored the shadowy presence as much as he could. He had a lot to think about.

.

Much to his surprise, he and Dick had parted somewhat amicably - although that might have been due to the fact Jason had been too hungover to form a coherent sentence, let alone get in a fight. The morning had found them curled together in the bed, and Jason had valiantly tried not to die whilst Dick hugged the crap out of him.

"Jaybird, this doesn't have to be the end; you just have to decide what you want." Dick's voice had been soft, but it still hurt Jason's sore head.

"What do _you_ want?" he muttered, wincing.

"You," Dick had said evenly, like there was no doubt, "and I will fight for you, but you have to do the same – you can't expect me to give up my family and integrity, there are some things I can't compromise on. You need to figure out if you can make it work. Then let me know – one way or the other."

He didn't say it, but his meaning was obvious. 'You have to play by the rules – no offing criminals or people that piss you off.'

Jason wasn't sure he could sacrifice his own integrity, but he wasn't sure he could let go either – it was Dick saying he would fight for him, the _conviction_ in his voice that stopped his knee jerk 'fuck you'.

People didn't fight for him. They just didn't.

.

Now weeks later every time he thought about those words his chest tightened and flooded with warmth. It was annoying and painful, sort of like indigestion - except he couldn't just pop a couple of antacids to get rid of the discomfort.

Worse, it had made him sloppy - only a week after his return to Gotham, Killer Croc had tried to eat his leg whilst he was still attached to it, and he had nearly met an embarrassing and messy death. It galled that he had needed help to get free –fuck it, who was he kidding, he had needed _rescuing_. To make matters worse, his knights in shining armor had been Red Robin and Nightwing, and just to compound the horror and humiliation, Dick had fussed over him as he prevented Jason from bleeding out all over the goddamn sewer.

Killer Croc had laughed so hard Tim had taken him down with little trouble.

That had been one of the most embarrassing nights of his life. If he hadn't been in screaming agony and in the process of passing out he might have shot himself in shame.

The next few days had been awful, He had been laid up in the clinic, pumped full of pain meds and stalked by an increasingly aggravated Nightwing. Even Tim stopped by, if only to fling some medication at him and he had floated in and out of consciousness. When he was awake, his leg hurt and when he was asleep he dreamed strange fever dreams - he wasn't sure if the ones full of blood and pain were better or worse than the ones with sweet kisses and strong arms holding him.

.

"You have to have reconstructive surgery."

"The fuck I do." Jason growled up at Dick's impassive face.

"The ligaments in your knee are damaged, the muscles in your calf were chewed on, and half your knee cap was shattered! If you don't do as the Doc orders you might lose full mobility in your leg."

He wanted to deny it but the fact was, Dick was right.

"You're going to be on bed rest for a while – and you're going to need some help."

"You volunteering to mop my brow? Wonder what daddy would say to that?" Pain was making Jason cranky, but there was a bitter truth to his words.

"I could if you want.'

"Don't bother, run back home and leave me be."

"But…" Dick began, face full of earnestness.

"Just fuck off - we both know you would rather be with him, following at his heals like a good little puppy," Jason snarled. His voice lacked volume but had enough venom to make Dick take a step back. "Would you follow him to his bed Goldie? I think you would in a heartbeat."

Dick's eyes narrowed and his face flushed – it was hard to tell if it was anger or embarrassment. "Got anymore Jason? Keep going, I dare you."

Jason had plenty more, but Dick didn't give him a chance, he was suddenly right in his face. Jason blinked at him, his reactions slowed by the painkillers in his system.

"You used to be a lot better at this Jaybird," Dick said. He still looked angry, but there was a wry twist to his lips. "We'll do it your way, but you might regret it – I make an excellent nurse maid." He pushed back from the bed and left with out another word.

Jason stared after him in confusion, better at what? Dying? Trading insults? He had a horrible suspicion that Dick had seen right through his bluster to the mixed up feelings beneath. Not so long ago Dick would have punched him in the face and stormed off, not checked his temper and left with dignity. Jason was left feeling bewildered, on uneven ground and with the disconcertingly tempting vision of Dick dressed in a cute nurse's uniform. He was sure the bastard had done that on purpose.

.

A week and a half later and he was home, hobbling from bedroom to bathroom and living on takeout. As if it wasn't enough that he was housebound, temporarily crippled, being watched by Batman incase he somehow snuck out and further corrupted his golden boy and stuck in a limbo of his own feelings, he also had an uninvited house guest.

The cat was a fluffy, scraggly black and white affair that had taken to living under his couch, and he was convinced it was the feline embodiment of evil. When Jason had finally returned to his apartment there it was, shedding dirt and fleas on his bed. The fact that this creature had managed to sneak in despite a locked door and all his security systems strongly suggested that it had help. He knew who to blame of course - Dick was a sneaky fucker and not above heaping cruel and unusual punishment down on him. Although for the life of him he couldn't work out if it was intended as a gift or a method of torture, either way he let it stay – mostly because he couldn't get close enough to evict it - and despite the fact it hated him with a passion, horded his socks and ate anything he left unguarded, they had reached a truce. Jason left it alone, and it didn't try to eviscerate him in his sleep. He actually kind of liked the mangy thing and found himself strangely glad of its company.

He didn't trust it though, and when his shitty luck finally gave in entirely and he slipped whilst attempting to wash without fucking up his cast, it was there watching with evil orange eyes. He lay on the floor fighting off waves of pain from his knee – pain so intense it made him feel a little giddy, like he was having an out of body experience. The cat snuck closer and just before he passed out he wandered if it would wait until he was fully dead before it ate him.

Dick had his apartment bugged - it was the only explanation for the speed in which his brother reached his unconscious self, wrestled him into bed, fixed up the new damage to his knee, stuffed him full of antibiotics and pain killers and passed out next to him in full uniform. In their family, surveillance cameras and stalking were just a way of showing affection, so he didn't hold it against him. After a fitful night, Jason woke to find Dick sleeping beside him, the traitorous cat curled on his belly and he had a feeling tomorrow was going to suck.

.

He wasn't wrong. The next day was awkward - the kind of awkward where there was a giant elephant in the room and it just shat on your Persian rug. They were going to have to talk about _it,_ and then there would be no pretending anymore, no putting shit off for another time.

After a brief altercation over Jason attempting to have a beer whilst on antibiotics in which, unable to attack with his body, Jason opted for poking Dick hard in the eye, they settled down to have The Talk, Dick in a lopsided kitchen chair, and Jason sprawled over the couch. Jason was feeling anxious and that was making him surly - he only had the one beer to see him through this ordeal so he was sipping it slowly. Dick was glaring at him from his watery eye.

"Why do I even bother?" Dick asked. "You're an ass, I don't know why I give you the time of day."

"I have a big cock?" Jason offered, relaxing slightly with the banter he had grown used to on their time on the road.

Dick looked thoughtful. "Well there is that I guess"

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. The cat chased shadows across the floor, its hair sticking straight up like a fuzzy porcupine

"Jason," Dick said eventually, "the ball's in your court – tell me what you want."

"Does it matter? You'll never stop being his dog - if he disapproves you'll come to heel. I know you, Dick"

"That's not the issue here and you know it. I can deal with him, so long as you stay within the law."

"Vigilantism is against the law."

"You know what I mean!" Dick's voice rose, and Jason could almost feel the waves of stubborn coming off him.

"I don't believe in his stupid ideals!" Jason was so fucking bored of having this argument.

"Then don't believe in them, just obey a few simple rules and you would be welcome – he loves you as a son!"

"I hate him!" Jason spat - he was lying, but sometimes it felt frighteningly close to the truth.

"I love him," Dick replied simply. It was so easy for him to say that stuff; too easy.

Jason viciously attacked the label on his beer bottle, peeling off uneven strips of sticky paper.

"Jason, the main issue here is our different ideologies. You think killing people is an acceptable method of controlling crime. I don't"

"Yeah, well it gets the job done," Jason said.

"That is does."

Jason lifted a brow. "That's a surprising outlook for you, Goldie"

"It does the job – doesn't mean it's the right thing to do."

Jason took a calming breath; if they both survived this conversation without drawing blood he would be amazed.

"You're fucking brainwashed - how many people would still be alive if he had just offed the Joker? Hate to sound like a broken record, but if Bruce had killed him after his first spate of murder and mayhem how many would have been saved? Barbara? Me?"

He took another deep breath. This shit never got easier and it never seemed to get through any of their thick skulls. "The innocents caught in his fucked up game? What about the people left to pick up the shattered pieces after all the chaos; the widows and the orphans the husband, the lovers and the parents of his victims?" Jason's heart was hammering and rage, hate was welling in his gut, he fought it down – this was a discussion that was going to have a massive impact on his life, one way on another.

Dick looked stricken, staring at something unseen in the middle distance.

"I killed him," he said at last, his voice tight and full of pain.

"The fuck are you talking about Dickie? Unless you snuck into Arkham and executed the bastard in the last 12 hours – you're full of shit."

"I did," Dick said, staring at his clenched fists. "I beat him to death with my bare hands. I thought he had killed Tim, but I did it for Babs too, and for you – I couldn't lose another brother to that man."

Jason didn't know what to think about that – he wasn't sure what the hell he was talking about. Surely someone would have mentioned this shit to him at some point - surely? "He is still alive though." It was only half a question.

"Yeah, but he wasn't when I was through with him. Batman resuscitated him."

"Of course he fucking did!" The rage was suddenly burning Jason from the inside.

Dick lunged at him, landing on the couch with a heavy thump and grabbing at his hands "If he hadn't I would have gone to prison, I would have lost everything. I didn't deserve it – but Bruce did that for me. You don't think he wants to see the freak dead?" He shuddered. "He does, believe me, and it was what I did that made me understand."

Dick exhaled loudly and snatched the half drunk beer from Jason's hand, he took a small sip. "Do you know what I felt?" he said at last. Jason let him take another fortifying drink before reclaiming the bottle. "Every time a bone broke under my fist, every time I heard him gasp in pain, I enjoyed it. It felt so right - the joy at finally doing this, taking revenge for all the hurt he had caused me, all the pain he'd brought to the people I love." He sucked in a breath "It felt _good_, Jason. Killing shouldn't feel good."

Jason struggled to take it in, struggled to contain what he was feeling. He took Dick's hand and pressed his mouth to his brother's knuckles – why had he not known this? How had nobody told him? Hysterically he wondered who would have even have bothered to tell him. This was more than Batman had done, even if he regretted it - Dick had killed the man who'd murdered him, however temporarily.

"Why?" he asked. "Why don't you follow through, you must know how much better it would be just to be rid of them!"

"Would I like to crack Two Face's bones like he cracked mine? Hell yes," Dick's eyes were so blue and so full of emotion as he stared up at him, "but where would I stop? That heady feeling, the power and the revenge... It's like a drug - that's why Batman won't step over the line. It would be so easy to get carried away in the wake of that righteous feeling."

There was a long moment when Jason realized he was crushing Dick's hand in one fist, and clutching his bottle in the other and he took a drink, trying to buy himself some time to think about what was happening. "Can't you see what a crock of shit it is?" he asked finally. "You want me to bend to your way of thinking, to his way of thinking – but I believe Bruce should have killed him, he shouldn't have put that shit on you."

"But…"

"Don't you dare start on about morality and right and wrong! It's all fucking relative, can't you grasp that? I am doing the right and moral thing – by protecting the victims that they haven't hurt yet, as well as bringing some fucking closure to those they have."

"But Jay, it almost killed me after what I did - I hated myself, I couldn't trust myself."

"Because you've been indoctrinated into his way of thinking!"

"No! Although I believe his way is the right way, I destroyed something in my self when I killed him. I almost didn't recover from it."

"I get that Dick, but if we go over the names of all the folks you've fought, how many do you think suffered permanent debilitating wounds? How many were crippled? How many are nothing but drooling vegetables? How many died from the injuries they sustained whilst fighting you? How many bystanders were caught in the cross fire?"

Dick dropped his head into his hands, obviously in some amount of mental anguish. It hurt Jason to cause that pain, but he had to make him see that he wasn't some mindless killer – he cared about the victims and everything he did was for them. He ran his fingers through Dick's dark hair, tugging gently and resting his hand against the back of his brothers bowed head "My way is cleaner, less collateral. Why can't you see that Dickie?"

"I do!" Dick suddenly burst out, "I really do, but I still can't do it! I believe it's wrong, I can't compromise on this issue Jay! It would kill me to step knowingly over that line in cold blood."

"I'm not asking you to, but I am not going to stop doing what I believe is the right thing, just because you believe something different." Jason said stubbornly, every time he thought they were getting somewhere they ended back in the same place.

"I wont condone it - if you kill and I can prove it was you, I will hall your ass in to jail." The look on Dick's face said he wasn't kidding, obstinate fool.

"For fucks sake, why?"

"Because its wrong! I can't just make exceptions! Everyone deserves a fair trial, no matter what they have done – and your method of vigilantism takes that away from them!"

Dick's fingers were running over his arms, down his face, as though he could convey all his love and support though touch alone, and to be honest, it was sort of working. Jason was stuck in a quandary – give up what he knew deep down was the right thing to do, or give up the only person that not only meant something to him but also showed he meant something in return. What the hell was he supposed to do? How much did he have to sacrifice for the mission?

He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't regret what he was about to say. "I'll let the scum have their day in court, but if I have irrefutable proof of their guilt, and they get off because of money, or connections – all bets are off."

Dick shook his head, "I'm not sure I can live with that – there is so much corruption, you would be killing dozens of assholes a day!"

Goddamn it, why did he even bother? "Ok, last offer – I will give you time to make a new case before I make my move." This was a blatant lie. For the really bad ones, the untouchable ones, he would just have to make it look like an accident. He could do that, and he wouldn't even feel bad. That counted as a compromise, right?

Dick kissed him, deep and messy – his breath was sour from the beer and had an under current of Cheetos, but it was the sweetest thing Jason and tasted in weeks. He wanted to drown in the feel of it, but they weren't done yet.

"Dickie," he said, pulling back from the kiss, momentarily mesmerized by the slick redness of Dick's lips. "All these concessions I'm making? I don't see any from you, other than lowering yourself to sleep with an alleged murderer."

That came out a bit harsher than he intended, but he didn't take it back.

Dick cocked his head. "What do you want, Jay? Anything I can give, I will."

"I've only got one thing, but it's a big one." Even as he said it he was sure it was the right thing to do. "I need out of here. To be honest, if we're going to keep fucking," he couldn't bring himself to say dating, "then it can't be here with him breathing down out necks. I want out of Gotham."

Dick looked surprised, then thoughtful. "Where do you want to go?"

"Not far, maybe even Bludhaven. I know it would be shit for you to go back, but the place is a dump and could use all the help it can get – Gotham is fucking full of Bats –Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, the Brat Wonder and that other one whose name I keep forgetting."

"Red Robin."

"Right, Red Rodent. Gotham doesn't need us - maybe some of the smaller towns could use a helping hand"

Dick was staring at him blankly, wheels were obviously turning in his mind. "As long as I'm close enough to come if I'm needed," he said at last.

Jason felt a wild burst of emotion. This might work. This might fucking work. "You don't have to live with me, just come down a few times a week - you could commute between to two." Family meant everything to Dick and he wasn't going to try and take it away, and the Batlings needed their big brother to beat some sense into them. "Come see me once a week, that's all I ask"

Dick smiled his 100-watt smile. "Maybe twice? I could definitely do twice."

The cat clawed its way across the top of the couch, angry rumbling noises issuing from deep in its chest. Jason eyed it warily.

"Twice would be good - as I mentioned, I do have a big cock, and I know how you like that."

"Mmm," Dick said, pressing wet kisses to Jason's jaw. "That's true, I like your cock almost as much as you like my tongue up your ass," and he grinned triumphantly at the blush that made its way over Jason's cheeks.

"I hate you."

Dick grinned at him, fingers already working at his fly. "I know" he said, "I hate you too."


End file.
